


One Idea Lights A Thousand Candles

by PhaedrusOfAthens



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Bottom Alexander Hamilton, Candles, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Top John Laurens, Wax Play, tolerance for pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhaedrusOfAthens/pseuds/PhaedrusOfAthens
Summary: A grueling day and wine results in an interesting test for tolerance of pain.





	One Idea Lights A Thousand Candles

“Raise a glass!” Laurens said in an unusually boisterous voice as he raised his freshly poured glass of Madeira. 

 

“To freedom!” I smiled back raising my own. 

 

Today’s march had been exhausting and after our tent was erected, Laurens surprised me with a bottle of wine he had stolen away in his trunk. It tasted extra sweet after the rigors of today and in tonight’s pleasant company. 

 

“How many letters do you think you’ve written for Washington?” Laurens asked while removing his waistcoat and stockings to get ready for bed.

 

I shrugged. “Countless, I’m sure,” I replied uncertain of why he was asking. 

 

“No wonder he never lets you leave camp,” Laurens smirked. “Or perhaps he just understands that I have better endurance than you.”

 

I couldn’t help but scoff, but in truth, today had been grueling and every muscle screamed.

 

As if he knew what I was thinking he grinned at me, “How are you feeling?” He jokingly poked at the buttons on my waistcoat.

 

“I’m fine,” I replied as convincingly as possible and slapped his hand away. My hand holding the wine glass trembled as if trying to give away my secret. Laurens, annoyingly perceptive as always, glanced down at the sudden movement and his grin only grew more permanent. I groaned in embarrassment. 

 

“Mhm, ‘fine’,” he said mockingly and took another sip of wine. I took another swallow of my own and ended up drinking the rest. Gentleman Laurens promptly refilled my glass and topped off his own. 

 

“You can’t tell me that you’re perfectly fine.” 

 

Laurens stood up and stretched his arms to the side as if testing the veracity of the statement. “I seem to be okay.”

 

I rolled my eyes in response. Even that hurt. 

 

“Just accept it, mon petit lion, I just have a higher tolerance for these things,” he said with a self-satisfied smile. 

 

He was goading me into something with the use of that nickname and, as I’m sure he knew, it worked. I lept to my feet, rolled up my sleeves, and flexed my arms. I strained to keep my composure and dropped the pose sooner than I would have liked.

 

“You are ridiculous,” he laughed and pulled me to his lap for a kiss.

 

“You don’t really think you’re tougher than me, do you?” I asked breaking the kiss. Even now, it still bothered me. “If anything, my tolerance for pain gives me an advantage.”

 

“Prove it,” he said smugly as his eyes rested on a candle next to the bed. 

 

Anxiety rested in the pit of my stomach as I was trying to surmise what he could possibly have in mind. “Fine,” I said anyway. 

 

“Waistcoat and shirt off, then,” he said through a wicked a grin. 

 

For once I complied without argument. I stood to unbutton my waistcoat and pulled my shirt over my head. 

 

“Get on your back on the floor,” he said pointing to the rug. 

 

“There are more fun ways to get me on my back,” I retorted while lowering to my knees and trying to refrain from wincing as my legs trembled beneath me.

 

“Just do it,” he sighed. 

 

After accomplishing his order, he took the candle from the bedside table and kneeled to straddle me slightly grinding into my groin and causing me to moan underneath him.

 

“It’s too easy sometimes,” he whispered. “Now let’s see… Arms out to your side and no touching.” I spread my arms out and felt unusually vulnerable. With a tug, Laurens removed the candle from its holder. “Remember to stay quiet.” I stupidly nodded in response. 

 

Nervously, I moved my right hand up to his. “Tsk!” he said and leaned over me to hold my wrist on the floor above my head. “There, that will keep it where it belongs.”

 

He held the candle over my chest and I watched hot wax form near the flame in anticipation as I finally fully understood what he had in mind. As the wax splashed against my chest, I held back a grimace, but bent my knees at the surprise of the pain. I didn’t have much time to process what had just happened before another dollop of wax hit my chest again. I flinched and curled my toes while rubbing my feet together and pulling my stockings down to my ankles.

 

“Had enough?” he smirked. 

 

“I’m fine,” I lied. He shrugged and continued to hold the candle over a new spot on my chest and let the wax drip down above my right nipple. I clenched my hand in an effort to restrain giving away my discomfort. 

 

He moved the candle to above my nipple and I realized I was flinching in anticipation before the wax even dropped. I groaned and Laurens just stared back with a half-cocked grin. After what felt like forever, the wax that was beading at the edge finally dropped and I cried out. 

 

“Shh,” he reminded me through a stifled laugh.

 

“I think I’ve proven myself,” I said through a groan.

 

“If you say so,” he shrugged and moved to put the candle back.

 

“Wait,” I stopped him. “Your turn.”


End file.
